sooooooooo.

Like I've said, I blog a lot more when I'm sad.  The crappy thing is my last reason for being sad was a little more visible than I would've liked - meaning EVERYONE KNEW ABOUT IT.  So instead of vague references, each little inference became a desperate cry for attention and pity.  LAME.  I'd like to stay mostly private until I release my first memoir in which I name names and tell you which ex liked such and such and all.  Classy, right?

So the logical thing to conclude from all of this is that I am pretty damn happy.  In the rollercoaster ride of Jen's personal happiness level, we're on an upswing.  Much like a few months ago, life is blissful.  Which means something SUCKY is going to happen and happen soon.  So not to worry, friends/foes/exes/SWFs/stalkers/pageant people.  More emo wah wah wah my boyfriend broke up with me wah wah wah my shoes didn't come fast enough wah wah wah George lives far away wah wah wah white girl problems will come around soon enough.

Just to catch you up on the last few months:

1. BLISS.  Bliss included great hair and good taste in entertainment.
2. Bye bye MAO.
3. Bring it on almost dream job (The New Yorker hasn't called.  Yet).
4. BIEBER.
5. Bbbbbbbbbbbye.
6. Blubbering.  For approximately 9 hours.  Haven't blubbered since.  Or anything even remotely close.
7. Bad choices weekend part 1.
8. Bye bye bye.
9. BABY.
10. BAM.

Next up: Bad choices weekend part 2.

Hopefully that's vague enough for my good friend Matt.  Matt, if you'd like some @ mentions in front of each category of my summer, I'd be happy to oblige.  See, he (and presumably many others) finds my open door policy to embarrassing moments of mine being blasted through twitter a bit, well, embarrassing.

Secret: it hurts a little less if I can laugh.

Summer of dreams 2011 isn't always dreamy.  But I'm pretty sure that's because I remember every single dream I have, so they tend to lose a little lustre.  It's okay.  I bought Frye boots, so all is well in Whoville.